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“After seven.”
“Shit. I have to go.” Her hands flutter. “I promised I’d get there early.”
“Big date?” I snark. Then I take in what she’s wearing and realize I might be right. She’s even gotfuck meheels on, tall black spindly things that take her legs from long to goddess. The only thing missing from the stereotypical hot date look is...
“Oh! Shoot. Lipstick.” Amelia digs in her purse and fishes out a tube of scarlet lipstick and a compact mirror. Then she parts her lips and slides the bold color against her soft skin.
I watch, feeling a sudden and intense hatred for whoever she’s putting it on for. Probably some fucking artist from Brooklyn. Someone who wears cardigans and doesn’t give a shit about his day job and would never dream of coercing a young female employee desperate to keep her job into an off-the-books project.
Amelia snaps her compact close and gives me a weird look. “You’re growling.”
I grunt.
She takes a tissue from the box on my desk, blots her lipstick, and lets it flutter to the ground.
“Thank you again for tonight. Maddy—that’s the bride—she’s so excited about the Mirrorball,” Amelia says as she drops her stuff back in her purse and opens the door. “I hope the McDonald thing helps you half as much as you helped me.”
Oh. Right. The bachelorette party.
The relief I feel after realizing she’s not going on a date is ridiculous. It’s none of my business what she does in her private time. None at all.
“Will there by male strippers at this bachelorette party?” I hear myself asking. Scolding.
“Maddy works for a sex toy company,” Amelia says, which doesn’t answer my fucking question.
And then Amelia’s gone in a blur of flying blonde curls and shimmering beads, leaving me alone with my whiteboard.
I shake off the spell of Amelia and move McDonald into the “yes” column.
I settle back against my desk and stare at the remaining names.
Then I swear and order takeout. Victory’s close, I know it. Which means I’m not going home until I figure out what angle I can use to get one more board member to switch to my side.
It’s going to be a long night.
It’s almostmidnight when I get a text from my assistant Lucinda.
I foundout why your dad wants to buy Tree House Digital even though they’re doing so poorly as a company. He made a bet with one of their shareholders, and lost, and this is the thing they want in return. Your dad gets to clear his gambling debt and they can off-load a failing business at an inflated price.
I can’t believewhat I’m reading. I thought my dad was done gambling. I thought he was done making decisions that put thecompany at risk, just because he loves the thrill of an unearned win.
I’m so angry my hands are shaking.
I type outAre you sure?
Lucinda responds immediately.Yes.
For the most part, I’ve been trying to play by the rules. But my dad just crossed a line I can’t forgive. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to beat him, even if it involves blackmail, or lying, or forcing Amelia to design a million more presentations. Hell, I’m so furious I’d follow my mother’s suggestion and start wife hunting if I thought I could find one before the board votes.
Hold on, I think. Maybe I don’t need an actual wife. If the board thinks there’s about to be a new member soon, who will tip the balance of power in my favor...
All I need is a partner.
My eyes fall on a printout of Amelia’s presentation.
Before I know it, I’m moving out the door.
I think I know the perfect woman for the job.
